


his eyes are nothing like the sun

by Midd1eofAdventure



Category: Original Work
Genre: 18th Century, Angel Wings, Angel/Demon Relationship, Choking, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Historical Fantasy, M/M, Rivalry, Royalty, Smut, i don't know i feel like that should be a warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:48:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28406523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Midd1eofAdventure/pseuds/Midd1eofAdventure
Summary: The commencement of the peace talks between the Kingdoms of Febrary and Ménard marks a historic attempt at cooperation.On the night of the Grand Ball, a chance meeting between a demon and an angel occurs; with that meeting, what had once seemed to be a tedious yet necessary attempt at ensuring peace becomes a far more precarious endeavour.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 28





	1. I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An angel and a demon meet.

It had been a very good day so far, and was set only to become better. Firstly, Caphriel had had a pain au chocolat for breakfast, which, really, is a hallmark of any good day — one cannot have a pain au chocolat for breakfast, and then go on to have a bad day. It simply is not done. Second, Caphriel had had a  _ very _ satisfying argument with Lord Edmund Pike, which had left the man with a beetroot red face and a rather aggrieved expression, which had put a skip into Caphriel’s step. He hung around the castle for a little after that, loitering in the Barons’ drawing room and just generally being a nuisance. He’d flirted with Duke Tobuscus, which was fun but was going nowhere; he just liked to make the man flustered. What was really the icing on top of this rather splendid cake of a day was the fact that a ball was to be held that night, a rather last-ditch attempt of King Amon Delsarte to bring together the Kingdoms of Fabrary and Ménard, hoping to achieve everlasting harmony and _blah, blah, blah_. All of that diplomatic stuff rather went over Caphriel’s head — what he was excited for was the ball. 

Dressed to the nines and arriving fashionably late (and already a little intoxicated — he’d had pre-drinks with one of the servants; the servant had been reluctant, but Caphriel jingled a coin purse in front of him and he’d swiftly changed his mind), Caphriel made his way to the right side of the ballroom, snatching a champagne flute from a nearby butler. The atmosphere of the lavish ballroom was electric; the rhythmic tempo of one of those wonderful Russian waltzes swelled within the room, man and woman dancing in perfect timing with one another. Chatter flowed throughout, and Caphriel found it amusing to watch barons and dukes alike attempt to form some sort of working relationship with people from the opposite kingdom. Whilst some friendships were being made (Caphriel overheard someone say, “We’re not so different, you and I,” and thought he might puke), there was very clearly a  _ lot  _ of tension remaining.

Caphriel sipped his champagne, paling as he caught the eye of Duke Isaac, who gave him an expression that very clearly said  _ get to work _ . Pooh! He was no fun. Caphriel sighed, downed his champagne, picked up another glass of champagne, and then moved further into the crowd, intending to find somebody to bother.

-

There was no easy way around it. Mornings were, in his most humble opinion, the make or break of a person's day. Or demons, depending on your persuasion. Orias woke with the sun, ironic for  _ his _ particular persuasion, but nevertheless this was going to be a good day. He dragged himself up, stretching out and scratching his right shoulder blade, an itch he could never get to go away. Donning his black silk dressing robe, he slipped off to the seat beside the window, gazing out across the Kingdom he had fallen into. Book in hand, and with tea brought by servants, Orias started his lazy morning. 

After about an hour of reading to rouse himself, Orias went through the phases that he did each morning; he bathed, then dried and combed back his hair, tutting at the length -- he really  _ should _ get that cut soon. Then he dressed, getting into his most prized riding gear, admiring the golden embroidery of his jacket against the navy blue velvet. Before long, Orias was off into the forests at the back of the castle with Lord George Polis trotting alongside him. The two worked together; as Keeper of the Seal and member of the High Council, Orias often had meetings with Polis. Not all of them in the forests, but some. Other meetings were more biblical, but always fun. 

The pair discussed the plan for the evening's ball in the Kingdom of Ménard; who would talk to whom, what should be discussed, what was the King's position on x, y, and z. It was all nothing to Orias in the long term, but a fun game to play in the short. 

That evening, dressed in his finest black suit, Orias found himself arm in arm with a rather charming young lady as they danced. Oh how he loved to dance, the sway and sweeping elegance of it all, like flying all over again but with two feet firmly on the ground. The music was loud and bounced off the extravagant walls, seemingly pushing its way into every inch of the room and every set of ears. As the song ended, Orias bowed, kissing the young maidens hand softly. She giggled, blushing before skipping off for whatever women did. Temptation was a great thing, and Orias was never one to limit himself in thirst of it, male or female, addiction or vice.

Thus, he found himself, drink in hand (and a few already downed), watching the world go by as he had for so many millennia. Watching people and their problems dance around him, around themselves too, never fully watching back.

-

Caphriel watched with mild interest as a black haired man swooped down, giving his dance partner a kiss on the hand before she skipped away happily, likely off to gossip the mundane gossip of a noblewoman. Bless their hearts, but there wasn’t really much else for them to do around here, what with the patriarchy and all. He’d asked Sandalphon about it once, curious as to whether it’d ever stop, or whether women were to be subordinate to men for the foreseeable future.  _ “Well, yes, but also no,” _ Sandalphon had replied, which hadn’t really answered Caphriel’s question at all, but that’s Sandalphon for you. Once the dark haired man was alone, Caphriel made his way over to him. The closer he got, the more he took in the stranger's distinctive features. Oh, he was handsome! This would make things even more interesting. If Caphriel could get a good lay out of tonight, he’d be one happy angel. If Michael was to never find out about this, he’d be even happier. One thing at a time, though. Step one, talk to the stranger with the wonderful facial structure.

“Good evening,” Caphriel greeted the man as he sidled up to him. He kept his voice light and familiar, not in the mood to bother with that professional schtick that Lord Pike insisted on. “You’re of the Kingdom of Febrary, no?”

Orias leant back against the wall, sipping his champagne as he watched humans do what humans do. He had never really thought too much into what they do, but rather  _ why _ they do it. What was the compulsion to act in a pack mentality? Why bother with three meals a day? What was the reason for marriage? It didn't matter how long he was on earth for, the questions were never answered completely, and so his curiosity never really dwindled. His patience, however, that was already in short supply, and it was only the 17th Century! Truly, the Lord only knows how many more years She has in store.  Orias was only pulled from these thoughts by a question posed by a small, very handsome, man. “Yes, yes I am,” Orias answered softly, his eyes flicking over the other man's face. Well, well, well, the evening just took a new turn. Perhaps he would be having more fun than previously thought. Orias hummed, sipping his champagne, “And you’re from the Kingdom of Ménard?”

As the man turned to face him, Caphriel was immediately swept up in his eyes. They were incredible, so unique, almost inhuman in their colour - in hindsight this was the first of many red flags, but in hindsight is 20/20 and Caphriel is currently very drunk, and, as such, this observation immediately flew right over his head with all the speed of an unladen swallow. 

Giving the stranger an angelic smile - Caphriel was rather good at those; he was certainly better at it than the average angel (he wasn't quite as good at is as Gabriel was, but with practice he was sure he would get there soon) - he swept down into an elegant bow. “Baron Casca Hawtrey-Pye. A pleasure to meet you.”

Now, there was something special about a handsome man bowing in front of Orias, something that made his stomach swirl with desire. He finished his drink and placed it on the side as he resisted the temptation to drag the man off into a quiet chamber so they could meet properly. Perhaps staying off another glass of champagne was a good idea, it was a little too early in the night for such carnal thoughts.

As Casca rose, Orias nodded. “The pleasure is all mine, Baron Casca,” He said, extending his hand. “Duke Orias Mawkan-Fell, I very much like your gloves. They are exquisite.”

Caphriel gladly shook the man's hand, keeping the handshake delicate. The comment about his gloves positively filled him with glee - a man with taste! Oftentimes, it seemed that the Dukes of the Royal Court of Ménard wouldn't know what fashion was even if it were to smack them across the face. It was utterly demoralising. But this - this acknowledgement of his gloves (which really were a particularly gorgeous pair) - was promising… invigorating even. “Why, thank you, your grace,” Caphriel replied softly, a musical note to his voice as he turned his charm up to eleven. “They’re a favourite pair of mine, brought out only when the occasion warrants it. Designed by Von Luitz of Cruze - I’m sure you’ve heard of him.”

Orias’ lips pulled into a smirk, this man was  _ good _ , very good and very attractive. Shaking Casca’s hand softly, Orias nodded, “A good friend of mine, Von Luitz. This jacket and gloves are one of a kind, a gift for my birthday.” He bragged, never letting go of a good chance to subtly show off, or not so subtly in this case. Ah well, the champagne coats all inhibitions. “So, enjoying the evening, Baron?”

Caphriel’s eyes widened in genuine interest, quickly taking in the intricate lacing of the jacket, a signature feature of the work of Von Luitz, “Oh, goodness, how hadn't I noticed? Your jacket is marvellous. What an honour it must be to wear such a piece.” He replied, definitely putting it on a little to flatter the man (what man didn’t like a bit of flattery?), though there was a real hint of awe to this statement. He sipped his champagne as Orias spoke, glancing out at the sea of guests once more as he considered his answer, “It’s quite the event, though to tell the truth I’ve only just arrived. I got into the habit of arriving late to functions as a teen, and have found it too enjoyable a trend to break free from. But as balls go, this is certainly extravagant, and I  _ will _ say that the orchestra are playing their very best tonight,” Caphriel said, giving perhaps a more thought-out reply than was required. Alcohol always got him talking. Sometimes it was a struggle to stop. “And what are your grace’s thoughts on tonight’s event?”

Orias’ smirk grew as he gently grazed his fingers over the lacing, “It is wonderful and fits… well like a glove!” He joked, signalling over for another glass of champagne in a motion so swift it was nothing short of elegant. Casting his eyes out into the sea to join Casca, Orias nodded, “They certainly are. No bars were held tonight clearly, and as esteemed guests, I speak for the Kingdom when I say that this party is brilliant. The King clearly wanted to impress, and impress he has.” Orias smiled, toasting towards the King as he sipped his drink. “Another drink, Casca?” He asked, noting the man’s empty glass. 

Caphriel quirked the corner of his mouth up at Orias’ joke. Oh, how he loved his, the inane chatter of two noblemen who scarcely knew each other. There was something fun about not knowing where the line is, the light verbal sparring, the undercurrent of sexual tension that certainly wasn’t present in all cases, but in the cases that it was, an even more enjoyable quality was given to the conversation. And perhaps Caphriel’s judgement was off, but there most certainly did seem to be a degree of sexual tension. This was promising, and made the small talk that bit more exciting. 

“That is wonderful to hear, your grace. His Majesty will be most pleased to hear that you all approve. The King adores a good ball, and has been greatly looking forward to tonight. We all have,” Caphriel replied, looking down at the glass as Orias offered him another drink. The man was  _ quick _ ! Caphriel hadn’t even realised he was all out. 

“I’d love another drink. The champagne tonight is most delectable, don’t you think?”

Orias smiled, passing Casca another drink from a servant with a tray, “It is, though I think I might swap to wine in a bit. There’s only so much champagne I can have.” He said, gazing back out across the pond of nobles as the orchestra started up on another song. “So, Casca, tell me. Do you make a habit of skipping out of balls as often as you make a habit of arriving late?” Orias quipped, knowing exactly what he was doing, knowing exactly how to play this game and win. “If so, perhaps you might like to show me around the castle? I have only seem glimpses and it is rather spectacular, a tour would not go amiss.” 

Humming, Orias turned back to the shorter man, shifting on his feet to the music of the new song. The game of chess was one he had learnt to play when it was first invented, and boy did he fall headlong into love with it. When Orias relaised people played chess, cities played chess, whole kingdoms and countries played chess, he knew the game and he knew his true calling. And he would be damned (again) if he wasn’t going to win.

“Oh, not at all. I must disagree. I could drink champagne like water and not even begin to grow tired of it.” Caphriel replied, thanking Orias as he was handed the champagne. What a gentleman! Humming softly in tune with the orchestra, Caphriel delayed his response. The answer was a resounding yes, but he didn’t want to seem too eager lest he frighten the other man away. “It would be an honour, your grace,” Caphriel replied once he’d given it due consideration. “Though best to make our way out unnoticed. There’s a Duke here who won’t be best pleased with me if he notices me leaving now.” He joked lightly, lips curving into a smile behind the crystal champagne glass. Though it may be the case that Orias is simply just very interested in the castle layout, it seemed more likely to Caphriel that he and Orias were very much on the same page. 

Orias nodded, his eyes flicking across to the Duke in question. “Perhaps a bottle or two of champagne going missing for our walk wouldn’t go noted either?” He asked softly, leaning in closer to Casca. “If you cannot escape with me now, would you like to dance?” He offered, extending his hand towards the man. The two were very much on the same page, there was no denying the tension between them, the lust that grew and tempted there. Orias smirked, “Who is this Duke that dares to deprive you of fun? I can see to it that he is… dispatched to another Kingdom.” He murmured, low and rough. A kingdom is a kingdom, he thought to himself, even if he would be sending the Duke to hell with a letter signed,  _ ‘from the Marquis, with hate.’ _

Caphriel _liked_ _him_. This man was ticking every box and then some. There’s something inherently very attractive about having someone offer to _deal_ with someone for you, and it left Caphriel’s cheeks a soft rosy colour as he took the proffered hand. 

“Oh, really, I shouldn’t tell you,” Caphriel said as they picked up the waltz, their footsteps instantly in harmony, as if they’d practiced this waltz together a hundred times before. He leant in closer, murmuring conspiratorially, “His name is Duke Isaac, but really he’s the least of my concerns. There are some real bastards working here, but you’ll find that out soon enough.”

Orias led Casca out onto the floor, his spare hand finding it easy to rest on his partner’s hip. They flowed together across the floor with the ease of water, hitting every step and every flourish with the grace of trained dancers. “Oh  _ really _ ? You simply must tell me,” He murmured by Casca’s ear. Oh hell, this man smelled divine, like sandalwood and oak fires, he smelled good enough to make a noble woman swoon. There was no doubt about it, they were going to give into temptation. The only question was; when? Orias pulled Casca in closer as the dance changed pace with the music, becoming faster with more lifts and (to his liking) more touching. “So, this Duke Isaac? What has he done?”

It took all of Caphriel’s might not to let out a delighted giggle as they picked up the pace, the waltz constantly nearing a crescendo, dancing swirling around, dipping past nearby couples. It was mesmerising to watch and thrilling to partake in. Caphriel had to admit, he was very impressed with this man’s dancing ability; he seemed to be nearly as good as Caphriel believed himself to be. Orias spun with Caphriel, his hands dropping to his partner’s hips in order to lift him into the air at each given moment. Strong and stable, Orias knew he could keep the other man safe, (though he had no doubts that Casca could do that for himself), it was pleasing to know that they fitted well together as dance partners. Putting Casca back down and taking his hand once more, the pair continued their flight across the dance floor. 

“Nothing terrible,” Caphriel replied, tone light once again. “He’s simply a bore and I can't  _ stand _ a bore. But Lord Edmund Pike, on the other hand… if your grace is fixing to send anyone away to another kingdom, it should be him,” Caphriel said, leaning in closer again as his voice lowered, “Have you any troublesome co-workers, Duke Orias?”

As Casca leant in, Orias nodded slowly, “Oh of course. Who doesn’t? Like your Duke Isaac, I have some rather boring co-workers who send me to sleep quicker than night rain on the window. And for another trouble, they are stupid. Yet they hold power and sway, not just over me but over the Kingdom too. Sometimes I wonder if there is anything other than a wasteful void between their ears.”

Caphriel grasped onto Orias’ shoulders each time he was lifted up; oh, this man was strong! It just kept getting better. This man was beginning to verge on perfect. When it came to creating humans, sometimes She really knocked it out of the park. “Oh, rather. I know exactly how you feel,” Caphriel hummed, a little smirk playing at his lips. “Being bossed around by imbeciles is demoralising, to say the very least.” And it wasn’t limited to his human life, either. The situation in Heaven was just as depressing. Caphriel could do a better job that Sandalphon ever could, he just knew it. 

The feeling of Casca’s fingers pressing into his shoulders sent shivers down Orias’ spine. This man was going to make him do unspeakable things! And boy, oh boy, could he not wait, sometimes there is just nothing better than the tension between two soon to be lovers, the build up and anticipation of when the flirting becomes actuality. Orias nodded, spinning Casca around and pulling him in closer still. “Insanely so,” He hummed, “Especially when you know if they just  _ listened _ , actually listened, the world would run more smoothly. Or better yet, if they just gave us the job and cut out the middle man.”

“Your grace is preaching to the choir,” Caphriel teased, glancing up at Orias with a glint in his eye, smirk widening into another charming smile. “Though I’m working on it. Give me a year, and his Majesty will know the full extent of my abilities.” Just one look at Orias told Caphriel that the man was similarly skilled; Orias had an aspect of control, of leadership, about him. He was tall, strong looking, a resolute expression on his face. It sent butterflies fluttering around in Caphriel’s stomach — a quaint little human expression, but one that he thought quite accurately described the feeling.

Ambition, pure ambition was all Orias saw in his dance partners eyes - and he would lie if it didn't make his toes curl in delight. Orias spun Casca once more before dipping him down as the dance ended. It was there, held in his arms, face to face and mingling breath, where Orias whispered, "I wouldn't doubt you for a second. I don't think anyone ever should." Pulling back, getting Casca back on his feet, Orias smiled properly at the other man - a rare occurrence as the man had abnormally pointed canines and was rather conscious about them around humans. They had tended to get him accused of witchcraft in the past. Nevertheless, a full smile graced his face as he offered Casca his arm once more, "Another drink?"

As Orias smiled, there was that slightly inhuman quality to him again. As mentioned earlier, hindsight is 20/20 and so on and so forth, but right now all Caphriel was thinking was  _ oh heavens, I think I’d let him bite me _ .

“I’d love another drink,” Caphriel replied. He definitely shouldn’t be drinking anymore, he was already swaying a little on his feet as it was, but this was all just so much fun! “I believe, if we were to leave now, we could sneak out unnoticed. I have a bottle of a rather lovely Portuguese wine up in my room, if your grace is interested?”

Orias' smile turned to a grin, full of wickedness and temptation. He nodded, "I am very much interested. A tour of the castle along the way would not go awry either," He hummed, ghosting his fingers down Casca's side. Gazing at Casca, Orias found himself drawn into his eyes, there was something... otherworldly about them. How they seemed to dance and flick from blue to stormy grey. There was no denying the man was gorgeous,  _ I cannot wait to ruin him _ , Orias thought, his own eyes flashing with lust.

Caphriel’s breath hitched ever so slightly as Orias’ fingers brushed down his side. The connection was like static electricity; there was something there, between them, blossoming into something bigger. “That sounds like a splendid plan,” Caphriel said, extending a hand to Orias, “Follow me, your grace.”

Orias took Casca’s hand without a second thought, he had felt the electricity between them.  _ Perhaps it is the clothes _ , he thought,  _ surely not anything else... interesting though _ . The vail of champagne and lust clouded his head, making it hard to see Casca's otherworldly qualities that gripped Orias by every inch of his body. 

The pair slipped out of the hall, the taller sneaking a bottle of champagne out as they walked away. Upon leaving the Great Hall, the silence suddenly became palpable as the orchestra faded and the only music was the low whistle of the cool nights breeze.

The silence was nearly instantly disrupted by the drunken giggle that bubbled out of Caphriel. He could scarcely remember the last time he had had this much fun! And better yet, the night was still young. He kept hold of Orias’ hand, glancing up at him, “Where to, then? The gallery? The library—“ 

Cutting himself off, Caphriel paused midstep, “No, don’t tell me! I bet you adore libraries, don’t you?”

Orias had chuckled as Casca giggled -- the man was clearly quite drunk. He shifted, wrapping his arm around Casca to better support him, should the man take a fall. However the falter never came from Casca, rather it was Orias who stumbled, 

"How... how did you know?" He asked softly, "I do adore libraries, they're probably my most favourite places on earth."

Caphriel grinned as Orias stumbled, the man’s surprise evident. “Just a guess.” Caphriel fibbed. It seemed that no matter how drunk he got, his angelic ability to pick up on the loves and loathes of God’s creations never dwindled. It was obvious to Caphriel that Orias had a penchant libraries. “Come on, you’ll positively adore our library.”

Orias frowned softly, taking Casca's hand as he was pulled long to the library. There was something different about this man, something... new but equally something that felt so familiar. And yet, Orias couldn't quite put his finger on it. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the lust, but something wasn't entirely human about this gorgeous man. Ah well, not a problem to focus on right now. The problem in fact, flew out of Orias' head the moment he saw the massive library. With wide eyes and head tilted to the ceiling, he dropped Casca's hand, gliding into the middle of the floor. "Wow..." He whispered.

Caphriel took the mild frown as an indicator that the man really had no clue as to what Caphriel truly was. Wonderful. It would stay that way. He led Orias to the library, grinning as he took in the taller man’s reaction.  _ That’s my good deed for today done _ , Caphriel thought to himself, neglecting the fact that angels are probably expected to do more than just the one good deed a day.  _ I hope you saw that, Gabriel, you and your selective blessed memory. _

The library was, in a word, stunning. It had a high ceiling with a skylight, the moonlight pouring into the room, aided in illuminating the expansive area by the many candles dotted around, giving off a heavenly golden hue. There were bookcases upon bookcases, each crammed with leather bound books, many of which were first editions (having a resident angel certainly makes it easy for one to get their hands on Shakespeare’s first folio). It was empty, for everyone who could be in here was at the ball instead.

Caphriel stepped forward, slotting himself into Orias’ line of view, “Like what you see, your grace?”

Orias remained stood in the very centre, slowly turning round as he tried to take in the majesty of the room and all its gorgeous glory. He felt light as air, like a child at Yule, or a newly wed couple.  _ I. Want. It _ . He thought, eyes wide and glowing with wonton need for this room. As Casca came into his view and disturbed his concentration, all airs and graces went out the window,  _ I. Want. You _ . He advanced on Casca, tugged him in close by the lapels of his fine silk jacket and crashed their lips together in a needy and heated kiss.

The one universal thing about demons is their desire is unbridled, unchecked. God knows they didn't fall for nothing, their ambitions didn't match up with the Divine Plan -- or maybe they did. Who's to say what goes through Her mind? Orias was normally, for all intents and purposes, rather good. Not in the angelic sense to the word, but rather he could keep his desires in check to an extent, mainly so as not to blow his cover. But when placed in his favourite room, a most gorgeous, luxurious, quiet and delightful place of knowledge, and then put a stunningly sexy man in with him. 

Well, a demon’s going to do what a demon’s going to do.

Caphriel let out a sound of surprise as he was pulled forcefully into the kiss. Mission complete. That was a resounding success. Who knew all he had to do was take a man to a library? His mind went wonderfully blank as they kissed, no room for any thought other than  _ more _ . There was something fiery about the way Orias kissed, all sharp teeth and warm mouth, his grip on Caphriel bruising in the very best of ways. Caphriel snaked his arm up, gripping the back of Orias’ exquisite jacket, moaning quietly into the kiss. Orias tugged Casca in closer to him, his hands slithered their way under the man's jacket and over his back to press them against one another. Hearts pounding, blood rushing, no thinking, just pure lust. Just the way he liked it. He deepened the kiss, hungry and needy as he started walking Casca back, pushing them against a wall. He moaned back, falling into a state of pure bliss, never wanting this moment to end.

Caphriel thought he might faint there and then as the man tugged him in close. Orias was so forceful — Caphriel thought it was maddeningly attractive. He deepened the kiss as Orias pushed him against the wall, his hands grappling at Orias jacket to keep him held close against him. He moved his left leg, slipping into between Orias’s legs, slowly pushing his knee up against Orias.

A noise that could only be described as a choked out moan escaped from Orias' throat as Casca pressed his knee against him. Like a horny teenager, Orias was only so happy to oblige and press down against the offered knee. He kissed Casca deeper, his hands moving down onto the other man's ass and gripping on tighter. Oh the things he was going to do, how he was going to  _ ruin _ this sexy being before him. Orias ground against Casca's knee, pulling back from the kiss only to move his lips onto the man's neck and bite down. Caphriel let out a little noise of his own as the other man’s hand moved round to his backside. He caught his breath momentarily as Orias pulled back from the kiss, only to have it swiftly stolen from him again as the man bit down on his neck. He cried out, a little louder than he’d intended, but no one was around to hear them; he gripped on tighter to Orias, pushing his knee up a little harder. Oh, those teeth were  _ sharp _ . It hurt, but it was incredible. Caphriel’s eyes fluttered closed, exposing his neck further for Orias to bite at.

Orias grinned as Casca cried out, happily sucking at the man's neck and drawing out a healthy bruise. He shifted, pressing against the knee as he clutched onto the other man's behind. Orias moved along his neck, nipping and sucking teasingly until even he couldn't take it anymore. He pulled back, panting, "Your chambers.  _ Now _ ." Caphriel whined as Orias pulled back, instantly craving that closeness again. This man was addictive, and Caphriel was utterly hooked. Orias grunted, moving off the man's knee and grabbing his hand. This man was something else, there was something more to him than just what he showed on the surface level. He seemed to be an enigma, one the Orias was only more than happy to figure out. Caphriel nodded quickly — he hardly had to be told twice.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fun is had; revelations are made.

With immediacy, Caphriel led the both of them out of the library, making his way up to the next floor with a sense of urgency. They all but burst into Caphriel’s bedchambers, an extravagantly decorated room with walls a blue that paralleled the colour of Caphriel’s eyes. On the ceiling was a gorgeous painting of angels in the heavens, sat upon soft white clouds. The bed was large, with luxurious silk sheets just waiting to be rumpled. Orias walked into the bedchambers, shutting and locking the door behind him. His eyes tracked around the room, "Wow.. this is nice," He said softly until his eyes found the ceiling. "Angels?" He murmured, frowning a little as a shiver worked its way uncomfortably down his spine.  _ Dont fancy fucking with them watching, especially not that Raphael. Dirty pervert. _

Orias slipped his jacket off, laying it on the back of one of the chairs before popping the cork on the stolen bottle of champagne. "Glasses?"

Caphriel brushed off Orias’ comment as he grabbed some glasses from his drinks cabinet, “Came with the room,'' He said dismissively, “You know how the aristocracy feel about their biblical art.” He moved over to Orias, placing the glasses on the table as he studied the taller man’s face. Caphriel’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of emotion, but most noticeable was clear, unadulterated lust and desire.

"Ah, of course," Orias nodded, pouring out two glasses of the champagne, watching it bubble and fizz to the top of the glass. He seemed, not disturbed by the presence, that wouldn't be the right word, but perhaps a little put out. Thinking realistically it would probably be rather fun, fornicating under the stare of angels, another tally in Orias' chart of blasphemous acts. He smirked, taking the glass that Casca offered,  _ Yes, now that's funny _ .

"You've got a lovely room," He hummed, sitting down in a lavish royal blue armchair and spreading his legs comfortably.

Caphriel couldn't help but note that Orias seemed a little off for a moment after noticing the angels. Perhaps he wasn’t religious? Would that technically mean that having sex with him would count as missionary work? Second good deed for the day incoming.  Caphriel himself was very unbothered by the idea of fucking under the gaze of those angels, for the simple fact that it was a rather inaccurate rendition of what an angel looked like. " _ Yes, but it’s the principal of it, Caphriel _ .” Gabriel had scolded him once, during one of Caphriel’s visits to heaven. Whatever. Gabriel just hated to see him have fun. 

“Thank you,” Caphriel replied, sipping his drink as he watched Orias make himself comfortable. The man was confident. Caphriel liked that. He made his way over to the bed, perching on it. “So, your grace. What next?” He asked, raising a brow challengingly. “Surely you didn’t bring our time in the library to an end just to make small talk in my chambers?”

Orias looked over at Casca, dragging his eyes slowly over his body. "Oh, hell no. I'm simply waiting," He said, sipping his champagne as he sat back. "Waiting for you to make a move." 

Much like chess, these rebuttals of flirty challenges pleased Orias. For lack of a better word it was fun, fun to tease and edge, fun to give in. And so,  _ so  _ much fun to take control. Screw the angels, he was getting laid tonight, and there was nothing Heaven or Hell could do about it. Looking over at his opponent, Orias smirked, "Come come, Casca, you're not a stupid man. I see you. I see your ambition, so tell me... what do you truly desire?" As he asked the fateful question, his eyes flashed a deep alluring red, bearing into Casca’s body and immortal soul. The trick with demons is, while angels can see the loves and loathes, demons can see desire and ambition like a bloodhound sees a scent. When asking a mere mortal what it is they truly desire, it always ends in that mortal spilling their guts without even realising.

Caphriel hummed thoughtfully, nursing his drink, the soft fizz of the alcohol dancing on his tongue, his head swimming with it all. He felt free, uninhibited, the way he felt when soaring above the heavens with his brothers. “That would depend upon what it is exactly that you mean as regards my desires, Duke Orias,” Caphriel replied quickly, the words exchanged between the two of them like a fencing match, this verbal sparring. “In the short term? Or in the long term? In the realm of my personal relationships, or of my professional relationships? Please, I implore you: be more specific.”

Orias licked his lips, chuckling softly.  _ Oh this boy is good... but I'm better, _ He thought, taking a sip from his glass as he let the alcohol hit his system and ease away any last barriers. 

"I mean your desires, Baron. All of them, but, most specific, what is the  _ one _ thing you long for most?" Orias asked, getting to his feet and making his way over to the man, standing in front of him. "What is the one thing that right now you want most?" Caphriel glanced up at Orias as the man stood towering over him, his expression remaining unbothered as he sipped his champagne. “Well. One has many desires, but if I had to pick just one, right now, in this very moment..” Caphriel trailed off, pretending to think for a moment. “Well. It would be that I desire you. In the carnal sense, if you get my meaning.”

Orias grinned, running his fingers through his hair and pulling out the black ribbon that kept it all back. "Well then, we're on the same page," He purred, leaning down and drinking from Casca's glass. He put his own glass to one side, moving to straddle the seated man, "You know what I love about desires?"

Caphriel watched the dark locks fall around Orias’ shoulders, framing his pale face perfectly. Oh how that bone structure was enviable. He leant back slightly as Orias perched on his lap, heat almost immediately begging to pool in his stomach. “No. Care to enlighten me?”

Orias hummed softly, walking his fingers up Casca's chest. "Well, my dear, I love it when two people - perfect strangers - have the same desire. Because one person's desire, now that's a very strong thing. But two? Practically unstoppable." He purred into Casca's ear, leaning in to lightly graze his lips against his cheek. "And I desire  _ you _ ." He whispered as his fingers stopped walking and he shoved Casca down onto the sheets.

Caphriel went silent as Orias spoke. Oh, he was  _ smooth _ . It was refreshing. Caphriel was sick of doing all the flirting when it came to the other Dukes he had seduced. Yes, he always got a good lay out of it, but this thing with Orias... well, it was something entirely different. Caphriel was obsessed. He grinned widely as he was shoved back onto the pale blue silk sheets, gazing up at Orias, “Your grace has an exceptional way with words. Perhaps all that time spent in the library is paying off.” He teased. 

The other man hummed, grinding his hips down against Casca's, "Call it... life experience as well," He purred, placing his hands flat on the other man's chest. "You're not so bad at this yourself, do you often find yourself bedding guests? Or other Dukes?" Orias purred, starting to unbutton Casca's waist coat. There was something about the man that Orias still couldn't place, something that turned this up to a hundred. It was as if being with Casca felt almost forbidden, so wrong and yet so right.

“I’m flattered you could tell,” Caphriel replied, letting Orias’ nimble fingers work at undressing him. Oh, this was  _ good _ . A thousand times better than anything he’d ever done before, and they’d not actually  _ done _ anything yet. “I’ve bedded a fair amount of the Dukes in this castle, and many visiting Dukes too. I’ve had relations with a few Barons, but on the whole I prefer a man of higher rank. It’s far more fun to win them over that way.” He said, voice lowering on that last line, leaning imperceptibly closer to Orias.

Orias made light work of the buttons, pushing the waistcoat to one side and slipping his fingers under Casca's tunic. "Ooh, sounds like a man who knows how to have  _ fun _ ," He purred, punctuating with a deep grind of his hips. "Sit up," Orias ordered, sitting back on the man's lap and spreading his legs just that little bit wider. Orias did so love to tease, it was so much fun to watch people squirm.

Caphriel gasped as Orias ground down on him, immediately sitting up once he was ordered to do so. He glanced down at Orias’ legs - they were so long and shapely, and  _ heavens _ God had really gone to town with this one - biting at his bottom lip ever so slightly. He glanced back up at Orias’ face, making eye contact with him once more, “What now,  _ your grace _ ?”

Orias grinned widely as Casca gasped, he noted the glance at his legs. "Oh? Like what you see do you, boy?" He asked, moving to cup the other man's cheek. "I reckon it's time for you to make a move, I'm getting bored." He teased, his voice light and singsongish.  _ Who am I kidding? Getting bored? With him looking like that? Never. _

Caphriel quirked his head to the side, curious. “Who’re you calling boy?” He asked, a playful lilt to his voice. A smile played at his lips as his hands snaked up Orias’ thighs, finding their resting place on his crotch. Quickly, before Orias could say anything, Caphriel surged up, capturing his lips in a kiss as he began to palm Orias’ crotch.

Orias moaned loudly into the kiss, rocking up into Casca's hand as he clutched onto the man. Hell he was in pure bliss, floating on cloud nine as he kissed the handsome man back deeply. "Casca.." He moaned, tugging on the man's tunic in an attempt to order its removal.

Caphriel kissed Orias deeper, moving his hands from the man’s crotch in order to tug off his tunic, tossing it somewhere across the room. It’d hardly be the first time his servants had picked up ruffled clothes from off his chamber floor. He saw the disapproving looks they gave him from time to time. It only served to spur him on.

Orias moved back, frantically trying to unbutton his own jacket and waistcoat in between the deep and hungry kisses the pair shared. "You're so gorgeous," Orias grunted, running a hand over Casca’s bare chest, his other trying still to undo his buttons.  _ Curse these bloody things, stupid well made waistcoat! _

“I’m just as God made me, sir.” Caphriel teased. It’s a shame Orias wouldn’t get to understand the true nuance of that joke. What a waste. Caphriel leant up again, kissing him deeply once more as he tried to assist Orias in removing his waistcoat, his delicate fingers fumbling alongside Orias’.

Orias laughed, a deep belly laugh, "Oh. God! God wishes She never made me!" He cried before he could stop himself, tugging Casca into another deep kiss as he ground his hips down on the other man. Eventually the waistcoat came loose and was immediately thrown across the room, his tunic joining soon afterwards.  Caphriel figured it was best not to question Orias. Between the apprehensiveness in regards to the angels and this comment about God, Caphriel figured it was safe to assume that Orias most likely had some sort of unresolved religious trauma. It was curious that Orias knew that God was a She, for most seemed to assume She was a He, but then Orias ground down on him again, and all concerns left his mind as he moaned loudly and unabashedly.

Orias laughed, shoving Casca back down onto the bed and immediately moving in to kiss and bite along his neck. He sucked, nipped, bruised and bit as much of his neck and chest that he could get to. All under the watchful gaze of the angelic sky of Casca's bedchamber. "You're so beautiful," He grunted, pulling back to look down at him, nothing but pure lust in his dark eyes. "I can't wait to ruin you."

Caphriel gripped onto Orias, his nails scratching lightly at his back with each bite to his neck. He gazed up at Orias, his own eyes blown wide with lust, grinning up at him, “Please, go ahead. Don’t hold back on my account.” Orias moaned, arching his back up as Casca scratched down his back. He threaded his fingers through Casca's hair, diving into the nape of his neck, and sucking a large bite.

Caphriel moaned softly, humbled immediately as Orias bit down hard, “How are your teeth.. so pointy?” He asked breathlessly, in between little groans and moans.

"Just got blessed," Orias murmured, pressing his tongue down against the raw skin to soothe him. He tracked a hand down Casca's chest, slipping it into his trousers and palming the man gently.

Caphriel moaned, pressing his hips up into Orias’ hand hard, rubbing against it, “Awful lot.. of Biblical references… hm?” Caphriel gasped out. He was intrigued by this enigma of a man, really quite curious as to where he stood on the whole religion matter.

"Says the man...who sleeps under angels... who's about to get laid under angels." Orias grunted back, palming him a little harder, "You want me to shut up? Make me."

“So close, yet so far.” Caphriel murmured to himself. It was amusing, watching this person stumble so close to the truth yet manage to avoid it entirely. He moaned again as Orias palmed him harder, spreading his legs a little. He reached his arms up, tugging Orias down into another rough kiss.

"You're not suggesting that--" He was cut off by the rough kiss, moaning into it happily as he rolled over, pulling Casca in close. There was no way this man was suggesting what he thought he was.  _ No way this man could know... He surely can't be an angel. Right? _ Orias thought, his stomach twisting over the possible idea. However, the follow up thought was,  _ if he is... I'm about to wreck an angel. That should please the Lord of Darkness _ .

Caphriel kissed Orias roughly and deeply, pressed up close against the man. He was completely and utterly oblivious to the fact that he might’ve just blown his cover, that Orias might be beginning to catch on to everything. Right now, Caphriel’s only concern was continuing to be intimate with Orias. Everything else could wait. Orias arched his back up into Casca, his hands finding their way to his ass which he immediately grabbed onto. Orias kissed him back deeply, moaning loudly as he thought about nothing more than pulling the rest of their clothes off and messing up the sheets even more.

Caphriel pulled back from the kiss, panting, “Orias, please,” He said breathlessly, pressing his knee against him once more. “Please, let’s do it.”

Orias moaned as Casca pushed his knee up, he nodded eagerly, "Yes, yes please." 

Before long, Orias was leant over Casca, the man's legs wrapped around his middle. "You're so handsome," He hummed, pressing a kiss to both of Casca's cheeks before proceeding to live up to his promise, and ruin Casca.  By the end of it all, the angel was left completely spent and panting, his silk sheets tarnished, the angel painting on the ceiling surveying the entire situation. Caphriel looked  _ sinful;  _ the irony was painful, and most certainly not lost on him. He couldn’t help but feel that if he were to Fall right there and then, then it was most likely warranted. 

That was the best lay of Caphriel’s entire life, and he’d been around a blessedly long time.

Orias hadn't felt bliss like that for a very long time, pure lust and temptation that just filled him to the brim. The image of Casca squirming around, crying his name as he begged for more was probably going to be one of his most favourite memories. It was definitely one of his favourite lays, and he laid Da Vinci! Orias dropped down next to the man, panting and chuckling softly to himself, "Now  _ that _ was fun!" He grinned, turning to look at the gorgeous man beside him. "You're such a little sinner, someone ought to teach you a lesson. And I hope to hell you let me do it." He quipped, relentlessly teasing and constantly ready for carnal desires. Since his Fall (and before it) Orias did his fair share of sinning, but nothing quite compared to bedding another person with no strings attached and in open defiance of the concept God tried so hard to instil in humans. Thank Beelzebub he wasn't a human, that would certainly be boring.

Caphriel panted softly, glancing up at Orias as the taller man glanced at him. He cringed ever so slightly as he was labelled a sinner —  _ please tell me She didn’t hear that... _ — but otherwise had a thoroughly sated expression on his face. “If you think you can get me back on the road to salvation, then be my guest,” Caphriel hummed, 

“I’d love to have you show me the way, however you best see fit. I would love to do this again sometime whilst you’re staying with us here in Ménard.”

Orias chuckled, moving in to wrap an arm around Casca, kissing his lips softly. "I'm definitely not the right person to put you on the road to salvation, but if you're in the mood, I'd hope you'd come find me to rendezvous like this again," He hummed, caressing Casca's cheek. There was no feasible way he was going to be able to keep his hands off Casca, and to be frank, Orias didn't want to. The way their bodies fit together just seemed to work, it was just so  _ perfect _ . Orias pecked the other man's lips before sitting up and stretching out, "Drink, dear?"

Caphriel kissed him back softly, thrilled to hear that Orias was interested in a repeat of this incredible night. Caphriel was sure he’d hardly be able to focus on any of his duties over the next few days, between the lingering soreness, the memories of the night, and the desire to do it all over again. “I’d love one.” He said, watching as Orias moved over to the drinks cabinet. Caphriel himself got up (albeit a little slowly and sorely, but by heavens was it an amazing feeling), drifting over to his large, ornate wardrobe, fishing out his red bed robe. He put it on, tying it loosely around his waist, before moving back to the bed, “Oh, these  _ sheets _ . My servants are going to have a fit.” He giggled.

Orias laughed, getting up and heading over to the drinks. It was only now that Casca was allowed to see the two scars across Orias' shoulder blades, red and sore looking. The man didn't seem fazed by them, pouring out two glasses of wine. "I'm sure they've seen worse, and if this is to be a regular thing, they will  _ definitely _ see worse. I've not finished having my way with you, handsome." He said turning back towards the bed, "I like that robe... Very classy. I wonder what the tie for it would look like as a gag in your mouth." He mused, humming to himself as he passed over the glass of wine with a wink. It was only Caphriel’s quick reflexes that stopped him from dropping the wine straight onto his sheets. This man knew exactly what to say,  _ exactly _ what Caphriel was interested in. He should probably be suspicious, but such suspicions could wait. He was hardly going to turn down the opportunity to be tied up and gagged by a stranger! 

Sipping his wine, he watched as Orias took a seat on the bed once more. “My dear,” He began, “Please forgive me if I am prying, but your back — it looks sore. Is everything quite alright?”

Orias' pleased-with-his-teasing-comment smile faltered at that question. "Oh... You're not prying. Sometimes it gets irritated, nothing to worry about." He dismissed, unconsciously putting his hand over his shoulder to the area where no matter how hard he scratched, the itch wouldn't leave.

Caphriel reached up, slow enough that Orias could tell him to bugger off or stay back if he needed to. He gently placed his fingers to the scar, “Is there anything I can do to help? Would you like a cold compress, perhaps?”

Orias tensed up subconsciously and had to physically stop himself from pulling away from Casca's hand. He knew he was safe, or at least felt that way, around the man, so there was no threat. "There's nothing to be done, but thank you for offering..." He murmured softly, his mind flashing back to the day he lost his wings.

Caphriel worried his bottom lip, staying out of Orias’ line of sight. He could heal him, slightly. Enough to stop the scar from being irritated, but not so that Orias would catch onto the sudden healing. It would be risky, and there was a possibility Orias could catch on... but that scar looked  _ painful _ , and for all his failings as an angel, he could not stand to see innocent people in pain. Taking a breath, he began to heal Orias slightly, remaining subtle about the whole thing, “Are you certain there’s no cream or rub that could soothe it?” He asked conversationally, needing an excuse to keep touching the scar.

Orias bowed his head, "No, nothing helps. Doctors and physicians and anyone I could think of that could have helped have tried. They all failed. Any remedy works for a day or two, max. Then its the same thing all over again." He admitted quietly, shocking himself with how much he was opening up to the other man. The scars ached constantly, sometimes so bad that Orias struggled to get out of bed, but what hurt more was the memory attached to it,  _ "You'll never amount to anything, never be as good, Muriel, you will never be good at all!" _

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Caphriel whispered, his heart aching for the other man. These scars clearly affected him on more than a physical level. It hurt to see. Caphriel closed his eyes for a moment, connecting on a deeper level with his angelic essence, calling it forth to do its job, and do it well. If he could just so much as dull the ache of the scar, he would consider it a success. “Were you in a war, your grace?”

"You could call it that," Orias murmured, tensing up as his scars resisted the healing, having been designed to never completely heal. "Don't fret over them, handsome, I'm fine," He dismissed, looking back at Casca with a small smile. The alcohol and lusting blankets kept him wrapped up, still not having made the complete connection as to whom Casca truly was. All Orias saw was a caring man, a very (very, and just for emphasis, _very_ ) attractive, caring man, who seemed to, for some reason, be trying to take care of him.

Caphriel frowned to himself as the scars didn’t so much as budge. He’d never seen that before when healing someone, not even once. It was concerning. Was he losing touch with it all? Caphriel felt a little sick at that notion. He’d contact Uriel in the morning, and ask them whether there was something amiss. For now, he turned his attention back to Orias, giving him a soft smile as he pressed a kiss to his shoulder, “I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything.” He said softly.

Orias shook his head softly, threading his fingers through Casca's hair, "The fact that you offered is kindness enough." He whispered, pressing a kiss to his forehead. Orias knew he was going to be stuck with the scars and the pain they caused for the rest of his existence. Part of him had hoped that by now he would have made peace with the fact, but it still stung as bad the day it happened. Orias sipped his wine, 

"Mhm.. This is good, dear."

As Orias brought up the taste of the wine, Caphriel knew it was time to drop the subject. He was scarcely going to back the other man into a corner with a tirade of relentless questions. Instead, Caphriel rested his head on Orias’ shoulder, lightly tapping their wine glasses together, “Isn’t it just? A Duke gifted me a bottle once, back when he was trying to court me. I’ve been rather obsessed with it ever since.” It hadn’t worked out between Caphriel and that Duke — it was never going to in the first place, for Caphriel was not at all interested. He had felt a little bad, since the Duke was clearly head over heels for him; during his time on earth, Caphriel had taken note of the fact that humans seem to be inextricably drawn to angels. It was a curious fact, and one that Caphriel had taken advantage of more than once. It was just a pity that that poor old Duke had gotten caught up in the whole thing.

Orias rested his hand on Casca's thigh, tracing small circles onto his skin as he listened to the man. "Mr. Heartbreaker are you?" He teased, smirking a little at the other man. It didn't particularly surprise him, Casca was stunning both in body and heart, clearly he could win over whomever he wanted.  _ And who am I to stop him _ ,  Orias found himself thinking before quickly banishing the thought. No. He was a demon, it would never work and it would just hurt them both. Besides, they were a good lay together but nothing more, Orias had a job to do and while he liked doing Casca a lot, he couldn't be distracted from the objective.

Caphriel smiled back, leaning up to press a kiss to Orias’ jaw, “Some may say that. Though I never set out to break hearts. I prefer to let them down lightly.” It did bother Caphriel a little, the fact that he couldn’t really ever settle down properly with someone. His life would forever consist of flitting about from person to person, which was admittedly a lot of fun, but ultimately concerned him; what if he grew tired of that lifestyle? He glanced into his glass, before swiftly downing it.

"Whoa, whoa. Hey, slow down there, boy." Orias chuckled softly as he watched Casca down the wine, gently reaching out to wipe off a spot of left over wine on his chin. "Everything alright?" He asked, gazing down at the other man, seeing the conflict and hurt in his eyes. "Did you break someone's heart recently? I don't mean to pry, and you need not open up if you don't want to." This man was something else, there was so much depth to him. Orias hummed to himself, threading his fingers through Casca's hair tenderly,  _ What are you? _

“I’m fine. My apologies, Duke Orias,” Caphriel said, brushing it off. He could hardly divulge such information to Orias; one doesn’t necessarily tend to go about disclosing their identity as an angel to their sexual partners near minutes after a lay. He looked up at Orias, giving him a reassuring smile, “All is well, dear.”

Orias nodded a little, not believing even one of the man's words. Nevertheless he wasn't going to push Casca into talking when he clearly did not want to, Orias would find out another way. "If you're sure, handsome," He hummed, leaning in to catch Casca in a deep and passionate kiss. Orias' kisses were never soft and kind unless he explicitly made them so, normally as a form of comfort as humans seemed to like that, and hardly ever as a form of affection. His love language was lust and that would never change.

Caphriel leant up into the kiss, taking it as a sign that Orias was willing to drop the object entirely. He reached up, grasping onto Orias’ shoulder with an iron grip, fingers digging in just enough. He shifted closer, needy. Orias put his glass down, tugging Casca in closer by his robe. He kissed him deeper, nipping at the man's lower lip, getting ready to go all over again.

-

Orias flopped beside Casca, panting heavily, his hair wild and starting to frizz. Orias laid back, catching his breath as the moments of sin flashed through his mind. Lord this man was something different, that was hands down the best lay Orias had ever had.

Caphriel nodded; he ached but he found that he was starting to rather enjoy the aches and pains and sharp bites and scratches that came from his moments of closeness with Orias. It made him feel  _ alive _ . He spent a few moments catching his breath, running a hand through his almost white hair. He looked down at himself, his hips and chest covered in marks and bruises. It was a pity he’d heal so quickly — he rather liked the way they looked on his soft brown skin, and knowing that they were Orias’ doing made them so much better.

Orias laid back, stretching out with a deep groan. He looked over at the man, "I marked you up pretty good... I'm not sorry about it either." Orias grinned, the idea of Casca walking around covered in marks left by him and their actions made his stomach twist with desire all over again.

“Good,” Caphriel replied with a smile, “You’d better not apologise; when one apologises, it often suggests that they shan’t do it again — and I most certainly hope you do it again.”

"Oh, you'll have trouble keeping me off you. Marking you up is far too much fun to stop now." Orias grinned, gently reaching out to rub lightly across Casca's chest.

“Would you be interested in making this a regular occurrence?” Caphriel asked, watching Orias closely. “We could reconvene here, in the evenings.”

Orias nodded, "You, wine, this bed? I'd be crazy to say no." He grinned, walking his fingers up the man's chest and lightly pressing his thumb into one of the larger hickies. Caphriel gasped quietly, biting his bottom lip as his stomach fluttered. Oh, he was planning on being absolutely  _ ravished _ by Orias over the next few weeks. This was going to be wonderful. “Brilliant,” He grinned. “I’m certainly looking forward to it.”

Orias hummed, nodding, "You and I both." He purred as he leant up, giving the man a bruising kiss but pulling back before too much pleasure could be gained from it. The things he had in store for Casca, ooh they were limitless and oh so sinful. Orias for one could not wait.

Caphriel pulled back from the kiss with an irritated whine. He could hardly believe how desperate he was for the other man — it was so unlike his usual self. Sitting back against his plush pillows, he crossed one leg over the other, “Are you staying here tonight? You’re more than welcome to, if you’d rather not trek back to your own quarters.”

Orias stretched out on the bed, looking up at Casca. "Oh, rather. I can't be bothered to walk all the way there. Let alone get redressed. So, if it's alright, I'll be staying put." He smirked, 

“Yes please,” Caphriel replied, immediately and unquestioningly accepting this title that Orias had thrust upon him. “There should be whiskey in the cabinet. Help yourself.”

"Whiskey?" Orias purred, his hips swaying as he put the wine bottle down, immediately reaching for the whiskey. It had become one of his vices over the many years and any chance he got to indulge himself he took with both hands. After all, what else is a demon meant to do. 

The scars across his back seemed darker, deeper and more pronounced as Orias poured himself the drink and fell further (if that was at all possible) from Her light. Ah well, the whiskey would soothe any aches. 

Orias turned around, strutting back over to the bed. Standing at the foot of it he looked down at Casca, sipping the whiskey. "You're aware it's not a bad thing, right? Being a whore, I mean. I am. Everyone is at heart, it basically constitutes caring for oneself. Provided you’re safe and consenting. Then what's the harm?" He smiled, reaching down to tilt Casca's head up with a thumb on his chin.

Whilst the first round had been passionate, the second had branched into more experimental areas; the two figured out what worked and what didn't, what they liked and disliked. Amongst it all, the two verbally sparred; Caphriel had grown conflicted as the word _"whore"_ slipped past Orias' lips.

That was definitely a sin. 

Caphriel had always sort of known that a lot of people in the castle regarded him as such, but he had thought little of it — people would always have their opinions of him, and he supposed he had given them good reason to believe as such. Sleeping around with every man he could? That did, technically, constitute as rather whorish behaviour. Had anyone else called him such a name to his face, they would’ve likely had their ass handed to them on a platter. Hearing the word from Orias, however, seemed to give it a different meaning entirely. It sounded like a challenge, like Orias was setting himself the task of utterly ruining Caphriel. Caphriel had liked how it sounded on Orias’ tongue. 

He wanted to hear it again.

“It is not necessarily looked favourably upon, in certain social or religious spheres," Caphriel replied, "Too much self-indulgence is a sin. I am the first to admit that I do, from time to time, stray into such sinful categories. But the Lord is forgiving, and I do believe that any and all vices are looked upon by Her mercifully. I am not too bothered by the title of a whore, dear Duke, but I thank you nonetheless for your words of reassurance.”

Orias' eyebrow quirked at the man's words,  _ fuck...fuck! There's no way. No way he's... no. _ He thought, an unwelcome feeling of panic brewing in his stomach. If this man, this gorgeous, sexy, smart man was on the side of the angels - of the _'good'_ \- Orias didn't know what he'd do.

Taking a long drink from the glass, Orias sighed. "Sinning is an interesting thing, you're condemned for one thing as much as you're condemned for ten. Sure, there's levels to these things, but you're still on the path to damnation. Whatever God says, merciful or not, you can't change that fact. And you need not thank me, you're as much of a whore as I, but the question is, are you having fun this way? If so, why is it a sin?"

Oh dear. They’d strayed far into the theological area of conversation. Caphriel’s brow furrowed at Orias’ words; there was something more to them, something far greater than a simply agnostic worldview. It let a sour taste in Caphriel’s mouth. “It’s better not to question it, your grace. There is an ineffability to the intentions of the Lord. It is beyond our comprehension. What matters most is that we aim to do our best by one another and by Her.”

Orias cringed, having some more of his whiskey as he reached out, threading his fingers through Casca's hair. "Hm.. I suppose I can agree to that. Sometimes life can be too boring and lonely without someone to share it with, and to get someone to come in close, we have to do right by them... But I disagree with the idea of doing our best for a being that never once tried for us. A creator, sure, a mother and overseer. But do you not see the wars and pain that could be stopped if She just stepped in?" Orias said, looking over out the window and dropping his hand. "And I know free will, blah blah blah. But it's undeniable that if She truly loved her creation, somethings wouldn't be as they are." 

“That’s not true at all!” Caphriel snapped, before he could stop himself. Orias was wrong, he didn’t  _ understand _ . And for all his vices, Caphriel tried his best to spread the word of God. She  _ was _ loving, Caphriel knew as such from first hand experience — he was a being made entirely from Her love, for crying out loud, “You’re wrong, Orias. You’re too quick to pass judgment without first trying to understand.”

Orias tensed up as Casca snapped, "Watch your tone, Casca." He hissed, low and nasty. "You do not know what I do, do not understand things in the way that I do. So don't you  _ dare _ try to tell me that I am wrong." He knew God's love, sure, but he knew Her wrath too and it was scary. Perhaps more terrifying than that of Satan's power, because at least with Satan there were no disguises as to whom he was. She was full of airs and graces that hid whom she truly was - an omnipotent being who could never be completely understood.

“And you do not know what I know, Duke Orias,” Caphriel gritted out, sitting up straighter. “You are full of hatred, full of resentment. I promise you, whatever you think it is that you have done, you are not too far gone. She loves all Her beings, great and small, good and bad.”

Orias bristled, his eyes flashing dangerously. He finished the whiskey, slamming the glass down on the table. "You do not know what I have done. She doesn't love me and that is clear as day. Do  _ not _ patronise me, Casca. I have had enough of it."

“I am not patronising you. If I am coming across as patronising, I apologise, it is not my intention. I can help you, Orias, if you let me. I can help show you Her love and Her forgiveness.”

"No. No. Don't you dare try that, trust me, Casca you'd be wasting your time." Orias laughed, cold and harsh. "You cannot convert me, inspire me, or convince me to change my mind. The damage is done."

“Nothing is unfixable. You aren’t lost, Orias. Though I feel for you. It hurts to feel absent from Her light,” Caphriel said, keeping his voice soft, a complete contrast to Orias. “I hope you will let me help you, Orias. Even if not at this very moment. Should you ever want my help, know that I am here.”

Orias turned his back to Casca, just had he had done all those years before. His back was deep red now, visibly painful like it was bleeding under his skin. Orias walked to his trousers, throwing his undershorts back on. "That's kind, Casca. It really is. But I’m past the point of return. You need to let this go."

“What are you doing?” Caphriel asked, “Are you not staying?”

"Relax, I’m just getting my undershorts on. Its going to take more than a theological disagreement to deter me from you."

“Well I’m flattered, I suppose.” Caphriel said with a sigh.

"You should be," Orias said, coming back over to the bed. He sat down beside the other man, "Let's not talk about religion anymore, how does that sound?"

“I agree,” Caphriel nodded, relaxing as the subject was dropped. He offered Orias a smile, “What would you rather discuss?”

"Hm.. How fucking gorgeous you are." Orias smirked, leaning in to press a kiss to Casca's neck.

“Oh, then please continue,” Caphriel giggled, “Do tell me how gorgeous I am.”

"Oh you are  _ so _ gorgeous." Orias hummed, shifting closer to sit on Casca's lap. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck, "So gorgeous, and smart. Even though we might disagree, your mind.. it's as stunning as the rest of you."

“Duke Orias, you have such a way with words,” Caphriel smiled, “Please, continue. I’m hardly one to turn away words of praise.”

Orias smiled a little, playing with the ends of Casca's hair. "Evidently, dear boy." He hummed, "Your eyes are the most enchanting things I've seen in a very long time... like stormy skies yet so calm."

Caphriel smiled a little wider at that, eyes practically sparkling. “I like this, by the way. You playing with my hair. It’s awfully soothing.”

"It is a nice feeling, isn't it?" Orias nodded, "You've got lovely hair too, very soft."

“No one’s ever played with my hair before,” Caphriel replied, before pausing. “May I have another drink? You never actually poured me one.”

"Oh, shit, I’m so sorry. Of course you can." Orias said, quickly getting up. "Wine or whiskey?" He asked, going to the cabinet.

“Wine please, dear.” Caphriel said, intending on getting  _ very _ wine drunk in the hopes of forgetting entirely about their little theological spat.

"Hmm, yes good idea." Orias nodded, as if he knew what the other man was thinking. He picked up the two glasses and bottle, pouring them out a drink before he went back to Casca. Caphriel took the glass gratefully when it was handed to him, immediately downing its contents.

"Whoa there, Casca... Is my presence really that bad?" He asked, standing in front of the man and sipping his drink.

“No, no. Not at all,” Caphriel replied, already done with his glass. He held it out to Orias for a refill. “Religion is just a very heavy topic. I tend to try and keep it separate from my sexual affairs.”

Orias poured him out another glass, "That's probably a good idea. Shall we make it a promise? Not to talk about religion during our little meetings?" He asked, moving to sit back down beside Casca.

Caphriel nodded, perhaps too eagerly. Theological discussions would likely only end in tears. “Certainly.”

Orias nodded a little, glancing down at his glass before he downed it. Part of him rather enjoyed a good debate, that being said, a bigger part of him wanted to keep things good between him and Casca. For sexual gain predominantly, to keep his cover as an afterthought.

Sipping his second glass of wine, Caphriel regarded Orias with a curious glance, “So, dear Duke. Anymore plans for tonight? Or should we get some sleep? The world is your oyster, your grace, and I am more than willing to play along.”

Orias shifted where he was sat, "I rather think our next little fun game will have to wait until the morning. I don't fancy being sleepy at this breakfast, and as tempting as you are - and you _are_ \- we still have jobs to do." He suggested.

“Perhaps an early morning fuck,” Caphriel hummed, settling down in his plush bed. “We shall see.”

Orias nodded, reaching out to caress the other man's ass cheek. "Hmm, now that does sound like a good way to wake up." He said, the grin evident in his voice. Orias shifted closer to Casca, leaning over him for a moment as he pressed up against him, "This was fun, dear Baron."

Caphriel groaned quietly as Orias pressed up against him and caressed him.  _ What a wonderful way to fall asleep _ , he thought blissfully. He gifted Orias with a sleepy, appreciative smile, “I had a wonderful evening. It is a pleasure to have met you, your grace. It seems good fortune smiled upon us, this fine night.”

Orias pressed into him more, sliding his hand down Casca's thigh. "Evidently, handsome. I look forward to more of these evenings, being in your company is a great joy. Even if we might argue a little, you're smart. And very handsome. I appreciate your presence, and... well..." He trailed off, dragging his eyes down Casca's body.

“And I’m rather attractive, I know, I know,” Caphriel giggled, pressing his thigh up into Orias’ hand. “You’re rather fine yourself, dear.”

Orias grinned, kissing his skin softly as he squeezed harder on the sides of the man's neck. How fun this was! Casca felt like putty in his hands, ready and eager for whatever he wished to do with him. "When the sun rises..." Orias purred low and hot, "I'm going to have you against that wall over there... Window open so all the dukes may hear you cry my name out."

Caphriel nodded, both eager and tired. Morning could not come soon enough. "I very much look forward to it." He replied around a yawn.

Orias smiled - not fondly, never _fondly_ \- and took that yawn as their cue to bring the night to an end. "Let us sleep." 

Caphriel shifted closer to Orias, already half asleep, “Goodnight, Orias.” He murmured, closing his eyes.

Orias gently stroked the man's cheek, "Goodnight, Casca." He whispered, and watched the man drift off.

-

For all the men he had been intimate with, Caphriel had never woken up in another man’s arms. As day broke and the sun began to creep past the curtains and into his bedchamber, Caphriel awoke, thoroughly warm and content and - most significantly - cuddled up close to Orias. The taller man had his arms wrapped securely around Caphriel, and the angel was rather certain that last time he’d felt so warm and safe was most likely when he was a little fledgling, spending most of his days cocooned in Her love. 

Caphriel let out a satisfied little sigh and shifted to press his face into Orias’ broad and all too welcoming chest. With his cheek pressed to the man’s ab, Caphriel was just about to settle down for another attempt at sleeping before a creeping, unsettling, unpleasant feeling tackled him full force, sending him bolting upright. There was something wrong, something  _ dreadfully _ wrong; it hung in the air like an unpleasant odour, heavy and imposing and sickening. It was  _ unholy _ . And not in the  _ ’oh you’ve committed a minor sin, you little fiend, you’ _ sort of way. It was the definitively unholy presence of a nearby demon, and — “No,” Caphriel whispered to himself. “No, it can’t be. How could I have...?”

It was emanating from Orias.

Orias had settled down to sleep after gazing at the smaller man for a bit. It always took him a little longer to fall asleep, so he had pulled Casca in close, lightly kissed his cheek for reasons he couldn't quite understand - alcohol probably - and finally drifted off. 

As dawn rose and shone her light across the sky, Orias stayed fast asleep, his arms secure around the other man. That was until Casca had sat upright in a pure panic, however, wrapped up in the warm bed and still satisfied from the night before it didn't serve as a wake up call for Orias. Currently he was dreaming of home, not Febrary no that wasn't home. He had a little place on the outskirts of Hell that he'd made for himself, that was home. 

Orias rolled over, his dark hair falling onto the pillow and finally showing off his most hidden feature - his ears that pointed at the top, not curving in the way an elf’s would, but instead simply pointed like everything else about him. Pulling the sheets up to his chest, his scars were pronounced and a deep red this morning, serving as nothing more than a red flag for the only one could see them. The angel in bed.

Caphriel stared down at Orias in disbelief. There couldn’t be any possible way that this Duke was a demon. “Calm down, Caph.” He whispered to himself, desperately trying to cling onto composure. He had to be overthinking things. There wasn’t a chance in heaven that he wouldn’t have noticed a demonic presence the night before! Perhaps this was one of those dastardly hangovers that he’d so often heard humans complain about. Caphriel had never had one before, but there was a first time for everything, wasn’t there?

But then Orias rolled over, and Caphriel had his worst fears confirmed. Caphriel scrambled out of bed, feeling sick to his stomach. That was it. He was going to Fall! He had slept with a  _ demon _ — his hereditary enemy! There was nothing he could do to redeem himself now; he had half the mind to just go and stand outside and wait for the smiting to commence.

"Where are you off to, Casca?" Orias grumbled, the bed shaking as the man scrambled away serving as his wake up call. "Get your ass back here, we have morning sex planned." He mumbled, his voice rough and full of sleep. 

Despite being half asleep, Orias had enough sense to know that something wasn't right. He took a deep breath in, it smelled  _ sweet _ ... sickly so. It smelled like - no. It couldn't be, he was nowhere near heaven. Then it hit him, all that had happened the night before outside of sex, all the little comments and quirks that Casca had.  _ Fuck, he is a angel _ , Orias thought, rolling onto his back with a wince,  _ Definitely an angel _ . 

Orias opened his eyes, looking over at Casca, "Cat's out of the bag now I guess?" He shrugged, "Hello, angel."

Caphriel was standing in the corner of his room with all the pent up aggression of an alleyway cat. He glared at Orias heatedly, “You’re a demon,” He muttered, pointing out the obvious. Caphriel was smart and typically very quick witted, but he was currently having difficulty with comprehending everything that had happened and was happening.

Orias slowly sat up in bed, "Yes, I am." He nodded, stretching out with a groan. "You can come out of the corner, I'm not going to hurt you, angel." He yawned, running his hand through his hair. It was too late to get angry or panicked about it, what's had happened happened and neither could change it. "Dont worry about it, Casca - what's your real name by the way?"

Caphriel’s glare only intensified as the man inquired about his real name. Demon’s didn’t deserve to be able to say the true name of angels; it was always something that had frustrated Uriel deeply, and Caphriel supposed that that frustration had rubbed off on him too over the years. “Caphriel,” He muttered, knowing he realistically had no option but to let Orias know his real name. It was  _ far _ too early in the morning to anger a demon. “And I’m more than happy to stay stood here, thank you very much,  _ demon _ .”

"Caphriel..." Orais murmured, the name sounding foreign on his tongue and leaving a weirdly sweet taste in his mouth. "Nice name, angel," He said, getting out of bed and scratching his shoulder. "Well, you can stay stewing in the corner, thinking about how you're going to fall now you've slept with a demon. I'm sure She would just  _ love _ to take your confession right now, She really cares just that much. In the meantime, handsome, I'm going to take a bath." Orias smirked, the tone having changed from the night before. _'Handsome'_ was no longer said with the current of lust and meant as a compliment, it had become a taunt. A red flag to a bull; Orias couldn't wait to see if Caphriel bit.

Caphriel wanted to scream. He was certain that if he was to scream, it’d be a horribly shrill, angry scream that would most certainly have a nearby maid calling out for the guards. “Go and have your stupid bath.” Caphriel muttered, with the additional  _ ’and I hope you drown!’ _ going unsaid, mostly for legal reasons. If Caphriel was unable to avoid Orias, then these next few weeks would be Hell on earth — and that was if Caphriel wasn’t about to Fall, though he began to suspect that if it  _ was _ going to happen, then it surely would have already happened.

Orias smirked, slapping Caphriel on the ass as he walked past him to go to the adjoining bathroom. He shut the door behind himself and slumped against it,  _ What. The. Fuck _ , Orias thought, hearing Beelzebub's annoying little voice in his ear, "You've done it now, Orias! You're enjoying the company of angels!  _ Sleeping _ with angels when they're the enemy!" Orias swatted the little voice away, wanting to get a fly trap for him. He started to run the bath, surely this wasn't so bad. Last night had been fun, aside from the theological argument which should have been a bigger red flag than what it was. Maybe they could make it work seeing as they didn't have much of a choice in the matter.

Caphriel near about  _ bit _ the man when he slapped his ass. The second the bathroom door locked shut, Caphriel began to pace, mind racing faster than a stallion. He was thankful, for a moment, that he didn’t actually have to breathe to stay alive, else his breaths that were now coming out rather sharp and fast would have proved a major problem. What was he going to  _ do _ ? Besides from pray, of course, for today’s schedule was now going to be a far more ascetic one than usual. He supposed he’d just have to go out of his way to avoid Orias ( _ but wasn’t last night fun? _ ) and stay completely out of the demon’s way ( _ he was certainly never going to be fucked that good ever again _ ). 

So long as he kept an eye on Orias and made sure to thwart any wiles, then avoiding the demon completely wouldn’t be too difficult. Or, at least, Caphriel hoped it wouldn’t.

Orias was  _ just _ about to get into the bath to relax when he heard the other man's pacing and panicked breathing. He huffed, "For crying out loud, angel! Relax, will you!" He snapped, throwing open the bathroom door. "Get in here, let's talk." He ordered in a tone that implied he didn't not want to be messed around right now. "Shit, all I want to do is take a nice soak and ease my body in this very nice clawfoot tub and all I can hear is your panic attack."

Caphriel shook his head, “I’m fine! I want to be nowhere near you. You stay in that bathroom and I’ll stay out here, and then you can very well  _ leave _ and perhaps, if you’re lucky, I’ll see you at the farewell ball!” Caphriel babbled, the words seemingly spilling out of his mouth all at once in a just about comprehensible fashion.

Orias advanced on Caphriel, shoving him up against the nearest wall and holding him there. "Look, I like this about as much as you do. But unless you  _ seriously _ want to piss off those on high, you need to calm down,  _ now _ ." He hissed lowly, his arm pressed against the other man's chest. "We don't have much of a choice, our kingdoms want war, and we need to make sure we keep the peace right? What happened last night is in the past, we can't change that.”

“But I can certainly prevent it from happening again,” Caphriel replied, his glare not easing up even once as he looked up at Orias, “I’m sure I can just work with another perfectly good, non-demonic Duke from your Kingdom.”

"If that's what you want, go for it." Orias said, keeping his eyes on Caphriel’s and his hold on the man firm while he felt the others heartbeat calming down. Once he was sure Caphriel was calmer, he stood back and let go. "Should have guessed earlier that you were on the side of the angels."

“Yes, well, I suppose that argument we had last night should have served as somewhat of a greater warning than it actually did.” Caphriel replied, still kicking himself over not realising it was a  _ demon _ he had slept with.

Orias nodded a little bit, "Yes, I guess so. I'm going to soak in the bath for a bit," He muttered, turning away from Caphriel as his body gave a throb from his back. Part of him hoped that they would be able to still recreate the night before, it had been such a good night that Orias wasn't prepared to let that kind of lust go easily. The other part knew that Caphriel was going to do as all angels did, be self righteous and abstain.

Caphriel watched Orias leave once more, moving over to sit on his bed as the bathroom door closed behind the demon. Caphriel felt torn; the memories of the night before were still fresh in his mind, a reminder as to  _ good _ it had been. Yet he couldn’t risk doing this with Orias ever again, especially not now that he knew who the demon truly was. Caphriel flopped back on the bed, staring up those angels dancing amongst the clouds, getting totally lost in the painting as he thought through his options.

Orias eased himself into the bath, groaning as he sunk into the hot water. He let himself lay, staring up at the ceiling, if Hell ever found out about what he had done they'd either think him a traitor or think him wrong for not trying to tempt an angel to fall. _ I can't make him do that... _ Orias thought, his stomach knotting at the very idea,  _ He's an angel but he's something else too, not like the others. _ Wishing he could just put his finger on what it was that made Caphriel different, Orias sunk under the water, closing his eyes as he laid fully submerged.

Caphriel donned his robe, deciding to pick out an outfit for the day. He usually delegated such responsibilities to his servants, but today he could do with such a menial distraction. He ran his fingers over the various jackets, each more intricately designed and expensive than the last, before settling upon a gorgeous lilac coloured one that would pair wonderfully with one of his new blouses. Today, the peace talks would truly commence, and Caphriel wanted to make a good impression on the nobility of Fabrary.

Orias took his time in the bath, needing the time to think and plan out the rest of his day. He couldn't shake Caphriel from his mind, nor his mind's eye as he saw the man gagged and bound just begging for him. Orias smirked the temptation rising again in his stomach. No, he couldn't. Caphriel had made their position quite clear and for now it would have to do. 

Thirty minutes passed as Orias laid under the water, his closed as if fast asleep. He longed to be asleep, waking up had been his worst decision of the day so far, it didn't bode well. If there was one thing Orias hated, it was starting the day off on the wrong foot.

Caphriel glanced up from the notebook he was writing in as Orias emerged from the bathroom, skin glistening with moisture. He immediately glanced back down, biting the inside of his mouth.  _ Lead us not into temptation, _ he thought to himself a little desperately.

Orias had a towel wrapped around his waist, his hair wet and pulled over one shoulder. "Can I ask you something, angel?" He asked quietly, voice softer than it had been the entire time the pair had been together.

Caphriel was caught off guard by that soft tone of voice. He glanced over at Orias, curious, “Alright.”

"Last night.. with my scars. You tried to heal me didn't you?" Orias asked, moving over and sitting beside him.

Caphriel watched Orias closely, nodding a little, “I did.”

"It helped.." He admitted quietly, "Thank you for that."

“Did it?” Caphriel asked, now giving Orias his undivided attention. “I thought it didn’t do anything:”

"Maybe not on the surface, but it stopped the pain on the inside for a bit." Orias mumbled, opening up to other people had never been his strong suit, and when the person is meant to be your immortal enemy the job is ten times harder.

“Oh,” Caphriel said, pleasantly surprised. No matter how evil a creature was, he would hardly sit by and force them to experience such pain. It was his nature, as an angel, to show love and mercy to all creatures, great and small. “Well, then. I’m glad.”

Orias took a deep breath, glancing at Caphriel. "I will understand, if you say no, but it really hurts today. I hoped the bath would help but it hasn't even touched the sides." He murmured softly, as if scared he'd be overheard. Demons were meant to be tough, hard and nasty creatures, evil through and through. That was something Orias always struggled with, he was tough, sure. But there was something so tiresome about being evil all the time, it made his stomach twist.

“Of course,” Caphriel replied quickly, chest aching at the notion that Orias was in pain. “It is my job, after all.” He shifted closer to Orias, ever so gently placing a hand over one of the scars. He closed his eyes, healing far more easier now that he could be more overt about it than he had been the night before.

Orias got up, kneeling on the floor in front of Caphriel. He moved his hair out the way, tensing as the man put his hands across the scars. Orias screwed his eyes shut tightly, trying his hardest not to relive the worst day of his life all over again. For once, he let his guard down, and in front of an angel no less. But Orias felt weirdly comfortable around Caphriel, and he needed his help right now.

“It’s alright,” Caphriel murmured quietly, hoping to offer Orias some comfort (curse that indiscriminate love for all beings!), “Just a moment longer and the pain shall subside.”

Orias groaned, clutching onto the towel as he bowed his head. His back felt superheated, like he had been sat by a fireplace for far too long. The scars themselves were deep red and angry, the blood underneath coming to the surface with a threat.

Caphriel had never seen a Fallen angel before. He had heard stories about it as a fledgling, both from his teachers and from the other angels. Gabriel had described what it was like to Fall in great detail, and it had just about scared Caphriel to the point of discorporation; Michael, on the other hand, wouldn’t discuss it at all. He had been close to Lucifer, and the entire topic was an incredibly sensitive one to him. Caphriel figured that if Falling was upsetting or terrifying enough to scare his older brother into silence, then it must be bad. The scars on Orias’ back seemed to confirm Caphriel’s suspicions — it seemed  _ agonising _ . Caphriel kept his hands pressed to the scars a few moments longer before pulling back, the redness significantly dulled, “There.” He said softly.

Orias slumped forward as Caphriel took his hands away, he let go of a deep breath that he'd been holding in. "Thank you," He whispered, running a hand through his hair. The day he Fell was the worst day of his life, yet at the time it had felt like the best decision he could have ever made. Some days it still was, but the one thing no one ever mentions about Falling is the fact that the pain doesn't stop. Like those who reside in Hell, those who run it have their own share of torture. Some get used to it, others try to dull it, and no one ever talks about it. Orias stayed still as he collected himself, casting the memories that bubbled into his brain to one side. He didn't need those right now, he felt weak enough.

“That’s alright,” Caphriel murmured. An idea struck him - a potentially morally-grey one. Healing was good, of course, but he’d never quite been told the rules on healing  _ demons _ . Thinking about it for a moment, Caphriel couldn’t really see how it could be bad. Although cast out from Heaven, Caphriel believed that Fallen angels were still  _ loved _ — She couldn’t hate anyone. It was contrary to Her nature. And if there was anything Caphriel knew about God, it was that she hated suffering. Piecing these facts together in a sort of syllogism to help him wrap his mind around it, Caphriel landed firmly on the conclusion that it would be alright (perhaps not  _ good _ , but certainly _ allowed _ ) to heal a demon. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly, “Uh, look. I know I said I want nothing to do with you anymore - and that’s true! I’ll still be avoiding you - but, should your scars need healing, then you are welcome to come to me for help.”

Orias moved, sitting down properly on the floor and gazing up at Caphriel. "Don't worry about that, I only asked because you're here and I haven't left yet. After I get dressed and go, I'll be out of your hair for good, Baron. You, or She, won't have to worry about me anymore." He muttered, slowly getting to his feet, having to grab onto the bedpost as the world spun. It hurt to be so harsh, but in the long run it would be better for them both. Orias wouldn't get pulled in on not taking out an angel, and Caphriel would be safe from whatever She would do if he was caught fornicating with a demon - and worse _ helping _ a demon.

Caphriel frowned, a little annoyed. _Why did Orias have to be so difficult?_ “Look, I’m being serious,” Caphriel said sternly, “You’re more than welcome to act tough, but if you’re ever in a significant amount of pain then you have the option of asking me for help. End of conversation.”

Orias sighed deeply, looking down at Caphriel. Thinking about it for a long moment, he gave a small nod, "Alright.. thank you." He mumbled, moving to lean down and peck the other man's cheek. It wasn't soft or loving, rather instead like a kiss you'd give as a greeting or a farewell. Orias pulled back, turning away to go and get dressed.

Caphriel watched Orias go, feeling a tug at his heart.  _ Yearning _ . He was yearning for the other man, his absence already suffocating, the bed already cold. Caphriel was going to miss the time that they had had together dearly, but this had to be done. Caphriel could not be caught indulging himself in the presence of the enemy. 

Sighing heavily, he continued to get ready for the day, putting on a bit of makeup and selecting his wig (oh how he loved the 18th century; the humans had really outdone themselves). Slipping on his gloves, he grabbed his cane and made his way down to the banquet hall.

May the mundanities commence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was originally far more graphic so if there is demand there may be a pwp one shot on the horizon 😗✌️


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Group projects in school were always bad; having an assigned partner was even worse.

Orias was quick to dress before leaving the angel's chambers, a weird heavy feeling hanging imposingly in his heart. He was sure there would be time to unpack  _ that _ later, but right now he needed to get back to his bedchamber and prepare himself for this big meeting. Orias slipped through the halls quickly; the morning breeze was cold and he longed to be back in Caphriel’s warm bed -- only, _no_. No he didn't. His bed was perfectly warm too, he had to stop thinking back.

_ What's done is done. He's better without you there _ . 

Eventually Orias got back to his chambers and stripped once more --  there was simply no way he'd wear the same outfit for two days. The man changed into a royal blue suit, complete with silver buckles and embroidered stars along the cuffs of the jacket. Orias smoothed himself down, tying his hair back into a ponytail with a matching blue ribbon. He stared at himself in the mirror for a long period of time, trying to work up the motivation to face the day.

Caphriel, meanwhile, was satisfied to make small talk with some of the Dukes from Fabrary as they waited outside the Hall, the lot of them having arrived a little early. As the doors were thrown open, the small group made their way in, being told on entry that there was a seating plan in place. Sighing softly, Caphriel walked alongside the many mahogany tables, looking for his place. That horrible, unpleasant yearning feeling returned as he read the name  _ Duke Orias Mawken-Fell  _ written beautifully upon a dove white card, the place set and ready for him. “Oh dear,” Caphriel murmured to himself, “God bless the poor bastard that has to sit next to him.” 

He dragged his eyes from Orias’ card to the card next to it, curious as to who would have the misfortune of sitting next to him. He hoped it would be Lord Pike, so that he could tease the man for it. Or maybe it would be Duke Isaac, that would be funny too, Caphriel would—

_ Baron Casca Hawtrey-Pye _ .

Caphriel read the card, re-read it, and then read it once more. That couldn’t be right, except it _was_. He took a deep, calming breath before sitting down, coming to the conclusion that this was all part of some Ineffable Plan, and that he was most likely being tested. Yes, that had to be it. It was problem. He could deal with this.

Orias rocked up a little later than the other Dukes, having perhaps spent a little too much time in front of the mirror. He walked in with some of the Dukes from Ménard, looking around the Grand Hall with a breath caught in his throat. The Kingdom of Ménard sure as hell didn't hold back on the architecture, and stunning works of art adorned the walls, with original handcrafted tapestries hung in pride of place. The Kingdom made mahogany tables that seemed likely to be good enough to eat off of without a plate, _m_ _ aybe even good enough to pin Caphriel- no! No more of that!  _ Orias huffed, fighting, for once, the temptation that rose within him. 

Walking along the tables, his finger gently dragging along the perfect wood, he searched for his name. Before long his eyes fell on the seated Baron and immediately his eyes flicked to the name card next to Caphriel, only to find his name looking back. He quirked a small smirk, pulling the chair out to sit down. The angel was sat with his head in his hands, emotionally preparing himself for the inevitable interaction with Orias. He would be calm and composed, and most of all he would be professional. A Baron has impeccable manners, and so he would treat Orias as a Duke ought to be treated.

He glanced up as he heard Orias approaching, now very much aware of the air of evil that hung around the Duke, which in turn truly drove home quite how intoxicated Caphriel was the night before to have not picked up on the demonic presence.

Orias turned to the man beside him, "Hello again, Baron Casca," He said softly offering Caphriel a hand to ask as formally as he could.

Summoning forth a tight-lipped smile, Caphriel shook the proffered hand, “Good morning, Duke Orias,” He greeted, forcing niceties. “I trust you found your way down to the Hall alright?”

Orias shook Caphriel’s hand, giving it a gentle and meaningful squeeze. "I did, the castle is lovely too. Saw the library as I passed up here, I should want to go have another look at it when I get a spare moment." He said nonchalantly as he got settled for the meeting. 

As far as interactions between demons and angels went this was going rather well. The sweet and soft energy that came from Caphriel was underlying, but after a while Orias knew it would be headache inducing, the kind that comes from being around something sickly sweet for too long.

“Yes, I’d recommend visiting it properly. Should you need a good place to work, I think that you’ll find the library in that regard too.” Caphriel replied, remaining formal. It hurt a little, to think about how much they had done together the night before only to now be acting like complete strangers. Caphriel cut the conversation short, unable to bear the formalities any longer, turning his attention to his plate. Thankfully, the Kings of Fabrary and Ménard took that moment to enter the room, leaving the Baron and Dukes and other such members of the nobility to get to their feet. 

The Kings took the position of sitting side by side at the King’s table, a gesture of goodwill and cooperation. Clearing his throat, King Amon began to talk, his voice regal and booming, commanding the attention of the entire room. 

“Good morning,” He began, “May I extend a warm welcome once more to those hailing from the Kingdom of Fabrary. Today our peace talks begin — a significant moment in our Kingdoms’ histories, and one that you must undoubtedly all be proud to be a part of. I know there have been questions as to how our peace talks shall work, and so I am here to explain to you the process by which we will all be following. As you have likely all taken note of, each of you are sat with a representative of the opposite Kingdom to yourself. This shall be your partner. Each pair is tasked with drafting up a peace agreement, and shall have two weeks to do as such. After this, we shall all reconvene and, as a group, vote upon our favourite aspects of each proposed agreement, in order to compile and complete one final peace agreement. Should you have any questions, then you are able to speak to either Lord Pike or Lord Stewart for assistance.”

Orias turned his attention to the Kings, standing to attention with the rest of the room as they spoke. So, the game of chess had begun. This was certainly going to be interesting. Whether the peace talks would actually work or not, Orias couldn't tell. Some carnal part of him longed for the carnage and anarchy of war, but there was a small part that was screaming the loss of life and pain was going to be too great to make war feasible. This line of thought, however, was utterly derailed by the notion of representative from the two kingdoms partnering up. 

_ Partners!? _ the demon thought, glancing at Caphriel,  _Oh this is_ really _going to be interesting_ . The idea of spending day in and day out with the other man was intoxicatingly annoying. On the one hand, Caphriel wouldn't be able to ignore him forever and any sex would be easier and less suspicious; furthermore, anyone watching from On High might just believe their time together to be weird coincidence. On the other hand, though, the pair had already proven that they had one of two settings (either intense sex or arguing, take it or leave it) so maybe they wouldn't be the best of partners.

Caphriel, meanwhile, had once again put his head in his hands, and was groaning, as if physically pained by the very idea of partnering up with the demon.  _ Now what?  _ There was going to be no way that he could simply ignore Orias; and that's not to mention the fact that angels and demons have vastly different conceptions of peace. He could see many arguments on the horizon for them, which created another problem entirely — how on earth was he going to ignore the lust he had for the demon? Spending most hours in the day with him was going to make that a nearly impossible task. Caphriel sort of wanted to cry.

King Theon of Fabrary stood up to join King Amon, "Peace is what we ask for, and to those of you representing Fabrary I expect you to do right by your Kingdom; be courteous and thankful to our hosts. Especially as they have this rather delightful Portuguese wine!" Theon beamed, a little wobbly on his feet as he made a bad attempt at a joke, toasting towards his fellow King.

King Amon smiled, a little pitifully, as King Theon made an attempt at a joke. He held up his glass also, the smile on his face becoming more warm and almost paternal as he regarded his congregation, “To peace.”

Orias glanced at the angel beside him. Well that was a real vote of confidence! The man looked just about distraught at the news!  _ And here I was, thinking he liked my company _ , Orias tutted, sitting back and resisting the urge to cross his arms. Two could play at this game. If Caphriel thought he could strop, Orias would push himself to strop harder - or better yet trick Caphriel into doing something he would regret.

A smirk wiggled its way to Orias' lips as he lifted the glass in front of him, toasting towards the King. The congregation joined in a near unanimous calling out, "To peace!" It would have been unanimous had Orias not kept his lips sealed tighter than a Priest's after taking confession.

Caphriel looked up only to join in with the toast, though there was no passion nor relish behind the raising of his glass. This would be how he Fell. He didn’t trust his ability to abstain from things; he’d likely be in bed with Orias by noon. Glumly, Caphriel sipped his drink before turning to stare down at his plate of food.

The Kings called for breakfast to start and the hall seemed to immediately fill with the voices that it had so been void of only moments before. Orias turned to Caphriel, "Oh hell, if it bothers you that much I'll find another Baron to work with." He tutted, seeing the misery on the other man's face. A sight like that a demon should delight in! Yet this made Orias feel... well he couldn't quite describe it but he was sure that it was not delight.

“That’s not a choice and you know it,” Caphriel grumbled, looking up at Orias, glum expression now a glare instead. “I don’t know how we’re going to make this work at all.”

Orias rolled his eyes at the look on Caphriel’s face, "Don't go pointing those daggers at me, I didn't orchestrate this nor am I happy about it."

“Then don’t roll your eyes at me,” Caphriel snapped back. “We’ll just have to act civil, and get this over and done with.”

Orias huffed, "You know for an angel you're rather horrible," he paused to contemplate for a moment, before continuing, "Actually, on second thought... that's probably about right for an angel."

Caphriel looked genuinely offended by that; from his expression alone Orias could tell that he had touched a nerve, “I’m actually a  _ lovely _ angel, thank you! I’m very kind, very loving, very good at all the things we are known for!” He said, listing off his many virtuous qualities, counting them on his fingers to offer a visual aid. He lowered his voice into a hiss, “You just don’t know a good angel when you see one, demon.”

Orias chuckled to himself, empty and void of any actual humour. " _Sure_ you are, angel. Don't forget that I used to be one of those very lovely, very good angels." He shot back, and if looks could kill (and if Caphriel could be killed) they certainly would. "I knew a lot of angels, a lot of so-called 'good' angels too, you don't seem so special.”

“Certainly better than you were.” Caphriel muttered before he could stop himself.  _ Wrath _ . He had to be careful. Equally, though - Caphriel couldn't help but wonder - did anger towards a demon really count? Someone really ought to write a handbook on these sorts of things. Who knew that angel-demon relations were such a moral grey area?

The demon tensed up, his hands forming tight fists of pure anger. Who did this man think he was? He had no right to judge him for who he was. Orias had so far been rather civil on the religious front thus far. There were certainly worse things he could have said. What gave Caphriel the right to slate him in such a way, when the didn't even know Orias prior to his Fall. "I suggest you watch your tongue, Caphriel." Orias hissed low and quiet and threatening, a stark contrast to the heated anger he had previously shown.

“Ooh, or  _ what _ ?” Caphriel asked, nor even sparing a glance in Orias’ direction as he stabbed his fork rather aggressively into a piece of bacon. He had no intention in eating it, he just found the stabbing motion particularly cathartic. “What will you do if I don’t shut up, hm?” He knew he was digging himself an even bigger, more wrath-filled hole, but he couldn’t find it in himself to bite his tongue and be the bigger person. _ An eye for an eye... _

Orias looked at Caphriel, anger and what could even be read as pain alight in his eyes. He said nothing, having no words to say that could express the rage that boiled within him.  _ Who does this angel think he  is ? _ The thought floated on repeat around Orias' head, like an actor constantly stumbling over a line he had particular trouble with, twisting his stomach up. He turned away, seeing a few other Lords stand to get to work with their partners.

Noticing this, Caphriel put his fork down suddenly, letting it clang loudly against the bone china plate. Shoving back his chair, he got to his feet, “We ought to get to work,” He said simply, not commenting on the look in Orias’ eyes, even as he felt a pant of guilt, “Where would you prefer to work, Duke Orias?”

Orias remained sat down, "Library. I'll meet you there." He muttered dismissively, picking up his fork to push the food around his plate.

And so Caphriel took his leave.


End file.
